ROMANCE OF THE TWO DE LA TOURS
Two years did the doughty hero Champlain linger in Old France. To
everybody he met, king, courtier, priest, and peasant, he had but one
subject: Canada, never ceasing all this while to urge the needs of
the colony across the sea and to further its interests by tongue and
pen. It needed all his influence. The Duke of Montmorency, becoming
disgusted by the perpetual squabbles of the merchants, sold his
rights as patron of Canada to the Duke de Ventadour, a religious
enthusiast, whose passion was not trade nor settlement, but saving
human souls. Although bred a soldier, he had actually entered a
monkish order, vowing to spend the rest of his days in religious
exercises, and it was this nobleman who now sent out to Quebec the
first little body of Jesuit priests, five in all, that arrived in
that colony. Now these Jesuits were the very last people either
Champlain or the Huguenots wanted in Canada. They belonged to a very
powerful, crafty order. They could sway both king, queen, and
minister to their wishes. De Caen and the Huguenot traders received
the five priests when they arrived at Quebec as coldly as
Poutraincourt had done in Acadia, but the {46} Recollets generously
gave them shelter in their convent until they could build one for
themselves. This they soon did on the very spot where, ninety years
before, Jacques Cartier had laid out his little fort. These five
priests were destined to have some thrilling experiences and to meet
with terrible ends, all of which you shall hear in due time.
Meanwhile Champlain at home in France saw with eagle eye that
Huguenot and Catholic could never live together in peace across the
wide waste of waters. They were always quarrelling. The colony did
not grow as it should, in spite of the fact that in a single year
22,000 beaver skins were sent by the De Caens to France. Nor was
religion attended to as devoutly as he thought the Huguenots ought to
attend to it. But perhaps this was because the Huguenots did not
acknowledge the authority of the Pope. So he wrote strongly to De
Caen about it, and the letter fell into the hands of the most
powerful, most crafty man of that era, far more powerful than King
Louis the Thirteenth himself. Cardinal Richelieu was the King's
Prime Minister. Having at length accomplished great things for his
master in France, Richelieu now turned his attention to Canada. With
a stroke of the pen he abolished the monopoly of the De Caens and
founded the "Company of the Hundred Associates," with himself at the
head. Thence-forward no Huguenot was to be permitted to enter the
colony under any conditions. The new Company was given a perpetual
monopoly of the fur trade and control of other commerce, besides
being made lord of {47} an enormous territory extending from the
Arctic Ocean to Florida. Moreover, the Company was bound to send out
at once a number of labourers and mechanics and 4000 other colonists.
Champlain was made one of the Associates, and continued in his
command of Quebec. Canada was now to be governed directly by the
King, just as if it were one of the provinces of Old France, and
nobles were to be created who would take their titles from their
estates.
All then seemed bright and rosy for the colony on the St. Lawrence.
But the best-laid plans, you know, "gang aft agley"; Richelieu, with
all his strength and cunning, had no power over English ships, and
English sailors would only laugh at his pretensions. At the very
moment when Champlain saw all his hopes about to be realised, the
most cruel blow that had yet fallen fell upon him. War had been
declared between France and England, and King Charles of England,
seeing his American colonies already prosperous, wished to extend his
royal sway over the whole continent. Thus, while the little band of
Frenchmen in Quebec were nearly starving, owing to supplies running
short during the winter of 1628, and were straining their eyes for
the arrival of the great fleet of eighteen ships sent out by
Richelieu, an English admiral sailed coolly up the St. Lawrence. Sir
David Kirke commanded a stout little fleet for King Charles, and it
occurred to him that it would be very good policy to capture Quebec.
Imagine the dismay of Champlain, the priests, the traders, farmers,
and soldiers of the colony when, {48} having waited for succour until
long past midsummer, the oncoming ships turned out to be English, and
they received a summons from the English admiral to surrender! How
weak his fort was Champlain well knew, but that did not prevent him
from replying firmly and with dignity to the summons, saying that he
would defend his post until death. Secretly he hoped that the French
fleet he expected would come in time. Although he intended to take
Quebec, Kirke did not press his advantage just then. He had now a
far better plan: to lie and wait for this same French fleet, and
cripple the colony in that way. His reward duly came. Off Gaspé,
Kirke met the squadron from France, and after a fierce struggle
captured all the ships but one, together with much booty.
What a plight was the brave Champlain now in! Cut off from all
communication with France, for at least ten months must his forlorn
band wait before assistance could arrive. He set to work to grapple
with the difficulty by sending all his men farming, and hunting, and
fishing. Very little land was cleared as yet; it hardly seemed worth
while clearing it as long as the dreaded Iroquois were allowed to
shoot the farmers as they worked, and afterwards to swoop down and
burn up the crops. Worst of all to Champlain's mind, the Hurons and
Algonquins whom he had befriended chose such a time as this to
manifest their enmity to him. Instead of helping, they refused him
succour. But food of some sort must be got. He set his people
digging up wild roots in the woods, and despatched a boat down the
{49} river to search the gulf for a friendly trader or fisherman who
would give them dried codfish. At the end of a long year of
hardship, when no French ship came to his relief, Champlain was
ready, in sheer desperation, to march his hungry little garrison
against the Iroquois, capture one of their towns, and pillage it of
corn. But before he could really carry out this dangerous scheme the
English admiral once more showed his face in the St. Lawrence. This
time it seemed far better to surrender to such an enemy as the
English than to perish miserably from starvation in the wilderness.
Kirke offered honourable terms, and Champlain, perceiving how utterly
useless was resistance, gave up for a time the fort, magazine, and
dwellings of Quebec. On the 24th July 1629 Champlain and ten priests
and a number of others embarked on board one of the English ships to
be carried to England, and from thence to France. For the first time
in its history, the flag of England was hoisted, amidst great
cheering on the part of the lusty English mariners, over Quebec.
You must not suppose the English abused their victory. All the
settlers who chose were allowed to remain on their property. Lewis
Kirke was installed as English Governor, and treated all with
kindness, giving them bounteous provisions.
On the way down the river the ship bearing away Champlain met, near
Tadoussac, Emery de Caen, returning with supplies for Quebec. Too
late! Kirke turned his guns on the Frenchmen, and De Caen was forced
at the cannon's mouth to surrender. But although he did so, young De
Caen told the {50} Englishman that which completely spoilt Kirke's
rest that night. "I have heard," quoth De Caen, "that peace hath
been declared between the two Crowns, and that when you captured
Quebec and the sixteen French ships, King Louis and King Charles had
been friends for a good two months. You have, therefore, done a
gross and unlawful thing."
De Caen spoke not falsely, for so it turned out to be. When Kirke
anchored in Plymouth harbour he learnt, to his chagrin, that peace
had really been made some time before, and that all conquests from
France must be restored. The doughty, scarred old Governor,
Champlain, posted in hot haste to London, and unfolded the tale of
Quebec's surrender to King Louis' ambassador. But, strange as it may
appear, King Louis was in no hurry to get back Quebec into his hands
again. It seemed to His Majesty, fond of his ease and pleasure, that
all Canada was far more trouble than it was worth. The capture of
Quebec did not mean the loss of the whole of New France. Several
places in Acadia still belonged to King Louis, besides the Island of
Cape Breton. But even these possessions only seemed to promise more
expense and bloodshed and wrangling.
In the meanwhile another personage--a Scotsman--had appeared on the
scene and laid claim to a large part of the country. Sir William
Alexander was a man of letters and a successful courtier. Being a
great favourite of old King James the First, as long ago as 1621 that
monarch had listened graciously to Alexander when he averred that, by
reason of Cabot's discoveries, the whole North-American {51}
Continent belonged to England by right. "As there is already a New
England, your Majesty should go further and found a New Scotland."
King James desired nothing better. He gave Sir William a grant of
the Acadian Peninsula and a great deal of the adjoining mainland for
his ambitious and patriotic purpose. As the King was fond of Latin,
instead of New Scotland the country was christened Nova Scotia. The
English set out modestly at first to people the country. As Sir
William was satisfied for some years in sending out a trading ship
each year to Nova Scotia and in exploring the region, there was no
fighting, or even ill-feeling, between the French and the English.
When in 1625 King James died, King Charles not only confirmed
Alexander's charter, but actually allowed his enterprising subject to
establish an Order of Knights-Baronets of Nova Scotia. Any wealthy
and respectable person could, by paying a certain sum towards the
funds of the new colony, obtain an estate of 18 square miles and
become a baronet; and over one hundred persons did this, and some of
their descendants are baronets in Great Britain to this day.
Sir William had no desire to drive away the French settlers in
Acadia, which, you remember, was more or less in the hands of
Biencourt, son of Poutraincourt. Besides Biencourt there lived in
Acadia at this time the two La Tours, father and son. Claude de la
Tour, the father, was a brave and courtly Huguenot. He occupied a
trading post on the borders of what is now Maine; while Charles, his
son, held a strong little fort called St. Louis, near {52} Cape
Sable. When Biencourt died he bequeathed his title and all his
interests in Acadia to young Charles, because he had been his friend
and companion from boyhood.
You have seen that soon after this a war broke out between France and
England--the war in which Admiral Kirke captured the French fleet and
summoned Quebec to surrender. On board one of the captured ships of
the French fleet was the hope of Acadia, in the person of Claude de
la Tour. He had gone home to France, and was now bringing out men
and arms and provisions to make Port Royal strong enough to resist
the new English pretensions to this fair region. While the valiant
Champlain saw himself shut up starving in Quebec, Claude de la Tour
was buffeting the waves on the way to England as Kirke's prisoner of
war. De la Tour, being a Protestant of noble birth and of charming
manners, was well received in London, and made much of. The very
best people were anxious to make his acquaintance. He, on his side,
found the English most agreeable, and ended by courting one of the
Maids of Honour of Queen Henrietta Maria and marrying her. Sir
William Alexander quickly saw how useful he would be, and soon had
him created a baronet of Nova Scotia. After this La Tour took
service in the English Royal Navy, and having obtained a grant of
territory in Nova Scotia, undertook to found there an English
settlement. Not only this, but he promised to bring his son into the
English service. Sir William Alexander readily agreed to the plan of
making La Tour's son, {53} Charles, a baronet also, and this was
accordingly brought about.
All this while young Charles de la Tour, rightful lord of Acadia
under Poutraincourt's charter, knew nothing of his good fortune or of
these proceedings on the part of his father. It remained for the
elder De la Tour to break the glad news to his son. Two ships of war
were put under his orders, and in these, with his pretty young
English bride and many Scotch colonists, the old man set sail. His
task turned out to be a far harder one than he had thought. When he
got to his destination on the other side of the Atlantic he demanded
an interview of his son, who was, surprising to relate, most
ungrateful. What astonished him most was to find his father in
command of an English ship, and wearing the dress of an English
Admiral. Claude began by telling his son Charles of the flattering
reception he had met with in London, and the honours that had been
heaped upon him.
"I am an English Baronet," he exclaimed, embracing the youth, "and,
what is more, so also are you. Rejoice, therefore, at the good
fortune that has befallen us, and fly the proud blood-red cross of
St. George from yonder staff."
But Charles, far from showing joy, seemed thunderstruck. Disengaging
himself from his sire's embraces, he replied haughtily that "if those
who sent you on this errand think me capable of betraying my country,
even at the solicitation of a parent, they have greatly mistaken me.
I am not disposed to purchase the honours now offered me by
committing a crime. I do not undervalue the proffer of the King of
England; {54} but the Prince in whose service I am is quite able to
reward me; and whether he do so or not, the inward consciousness of
my fidelity to him will be in itself a recompense to me. The King of
France has confided the defence of this place to me. I shall
maintain it, if attacked, till my latest breath."
[Illustration: De la Tour refuses to yield his Allegiance. 1630]
After this, what could the disappointed father do but return
crestfallen to his ship? After writing his son a letter urging him
to obedience, Sir Claude bethought him of the effect of cannon and
muskets as arguments. He would bring the ungrateful youth to reason
by force. Thrice he landed his soldiers and sailors and tried to
storm Fort St. Louis; but in vain. His men were repulsed, and soon
became disgusted with the whole enterprise. Eventually they all
repaired to Port Royal and took up settlement with the other Scotch
colonists there. It might be supposed that in this extremity the
young English girl to whom Sir Claude had promised power and luxury
on his Nova Scotian estates would now desire to return to England,
and he begged her to do so. But she refused.
"I have shared your prosperity, Sir Claude," she said gently, "I will
now share your evil fortunes."
And evil, indeed, they turned out to be.
In 1632 came the shameful treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye, by which
Canada and Nova Scotia were ceded back to France by King Charles, who
was afraid that by his refusal he would not receive from King Louis
the wedding dowry promised to his sister, Queen Henrietta Maria of
England. This treaty made a great difference to the fortunes of the
Frenchmen {55} in the New World--to Champlain and the De la Tours.
It deprived Sir Claude of his hopes, even of his refuge at Port
Royal. Not daring or wishing to return either to France or England,
he was obliged to throw himself on his son's protection. Charles
gave him and his pretty stepmother a house hard by Fort St. Louis.
He was rewarded. The story of Charles de la Tour's loyalty reached
the ears of his monarch, who graciously made him a
Lieutenant-Governor, and sent out men, stores, and ammunition of war
to uphold his faithful subject in the lands and forts he had guarded
so zealously.
We must now, for a little while, leave Charles de la Tour and his
fortunes. We will return to them anon, but meanwhile it behoves us
to see what was happening to Champlain and Quebec. You will remember
that the great Cardinal Richelieu had placed himself at the head of
the Company of the Hundred Associates. He had made Canada a royal
province, with a nobility of its own and with Champlain as Viceroy.
The war with England and the captures of Kirke brought this great
scheme to a halt for some years, but the treaty of St.
Germain-en-Laye was signed at last, and the Hundred Associates were
ready to begin their operations. By the end of May 1633 Champlain
was back again in his fort on Cape Diamond. This time he had with
him two hundred persons and great equipments. In his Company also
were a number of Jesuits, to take the place of the Recollets. With
such zeal did they administer their charge that life at Quebec became
pious and orderly, and many Indian conversions to Christianity were
{56} made. A new fort was built at the old trading station of Three
Rivers, at the mouth of St. Maurice River, as a protection against
the Iroquois, but otherwise not very much happened worth describing
here during the last two years of Champlain's life. The veteran was
now but two years short of the allotted span, and could survey the
fruits of his long labours in Canada with satisfaction. He had not,
it was true, made Canada full of towns and cities and filled her
countryside with prosperous farms and peasantry. But he had trod out
a path through the forest and had sown the seed of future greatness.
If only he had not also sown the seed of future hatred--if only he
had made the Iroquois a friend instead of a foe! Nevertheless, when
he fell sick on Christmas Day 1635 and his heroic spirit passed away
for ever from the land he loved, Samuel de Champlain had well earned
the name by which he is to-day called on the banks of the St.
Lawrence, the "Father of Canada."
In his prime Champlain had a handsome countenance, a noble and
soldierly bearing, and an iron constitution. In an age when fifty
miles was considered a great journey, he travelled many thousands by
sea and by land, crossing the ocean at least twenty times to defend
or promote the colony's interests in Old France. His wife survived
him nearly twenty years, and having founded a convent at Meaux, in
France, became herself a nun, and as Sister Helen, beloved by the
other nuns, she died.
After Champlain's lamented death a new Governor, Charles de
Montmagny, a pious soldier and knight of Malta, was sent out to
Canada. On his landing {57} at the foot of Cape Diamond a striking
scene took place. Amidst a crowd of black-robed Jesuits and soldiers
in brilliant uniforms and the officials and people in their gayest
apparel, Montmagny knelt down at the foot of a cross marking
Champlain's grave and cried out, "Behold the first cross that I have
seen in this country. Let us worship the crucified Saviour in his
image." The procession straightway climbed the hill to the church,
chanted the Te Deum, and prayed for King Louis. Montmagny was a
devout believer in the Jesuits, who ruled with great severity. If a
French colonist failed to attend church regularly, he was sent off to
prison. They cared nothing for the good things of this world; their
only desire was for the salvation of souls. It mattered nothing to
them whether the Company of the Hundred Associates made money out of
the buying and selling of furs or not. The great ambition of the
Jesuits was to make Christians out of the Canadian savages, however
remote, and as the Iroquois absolutely refused to be converted, and
hated the Jesuits, the priests did not hesitate to join hands with
the Hurons and Algonquins to destroy them. So there began to rage a
terrible war. The Iroquois, who if not more numerous, were braver
and fiercer than the Hurons, swore by the great Manitou never to bury
the war-hatchet as long as a single Huron was left alive above the
ground. Assault followed assault, the Iroquois braves coming close
to the walls of Quebec and burning and torturing their prisoners
under the very eyes of the horrified "black robes." On their part
the priests, besides being pious, were {58} very brave men and cared
nothing for danger. They would push fearlessly past the Iroquois
concealed in ambush and carry the gospel amongst the most distant
tribes. After a time their letters home describing their adventures
made a great stir in France, and a number of wealthy and influential
people came forward to help them in their great work. It was at this
time that the famous colleges and convents and hospitals of Quebec
were founded. The Marquis de Gamache founded a Jesuit college;
another priest-nobleman, Noel de Sillery, built a home for Indian
converts; the Duchess of Aiguillon, a niece of Cardinal Richelieu,
provided the money for the Hotel Dieu, or God's Hospital. Then there
was a wealthy young widow, Madame de la Peltrie, who, having no
children of her own, decided to devote her life and fortune to
establish a seminary for young girls in Canada. In the summer of
1639 she arrived in Quebec in company with Marie Guyard, a silk
manufacturer's daughter who had taken vows as a nun and became "Mary
of the Incarnation," the Mother Superior of the Ursuline Convent.
All of these as soon as they had landed fell down and kissed the
earth and evinced great enthusiasm over their future work. When they
visited the first Indian settlement, we are told by one of the
priests that Madame de la Peltrie and the rest embraced the little
Indian girls, "without taking heed whether they were clean or not."
Yet at home in Paris these fine ladies would probably not have cared
to take the poor dirty little French children to their bosoms.
The Jesuits quickly spread themselves everywhere. {59} No hardship,
no danger, no cold was too great for them. Amongst the Huron Indians
they soon found their greatest success. There numbered 30,000 Hurons
before disaster befell them, considered the most intelligent and
progressive of the Canadian Indians. Three fathers, led by the
indomitable Jean de Brébeuf, went forth to establish missions amongst
them. Brébeuf came of a noble family in Normandy, a tall strong man,
who seemed born for a soldier. He could perform wonderful feats of
strength and endurance. He penetrated the wilderness in spite of
every obstacle, and established a mission at Thonatiria, on Georgian
Bay. At first the Jesuits were opposed by the tribe, who foolishly
regarded all their sacraments and services as the deeds of sorcerers.
Whenever any evil happened to any of them, when the crops were
frost-bitten, or even when a child fell ill, the Hurons put it all
down to the incantations of the "Black Robes," as they called the
missionaries. But gradually the Jesuits lived down all such
prejudice. The Hurons saw they were strong, wise men, and at last
placed themselves unreservedly in their hands. While the Jesuit
fathers made their central station at St Mary on the Wye, a little
river emptying into Matchedash Bay, they founded other missions, St.
Louis, St. Jean, St. Michael, St. Joseph, in all the country round
about. In course of a very few years the missionaries came almost to
be the rulers of all the tribes there settled. But the Iroquois hate
against the Hurons was fast fanning into flame. Having sworn
vengeance upon them because of their alliance {60} with the French,
sooner or later they would find them out, and then, alas, the most
dreadful, thrilling scenes in the whole history of Canada would
happen. While the Hurons and their ministering Jesuits were living
in fancied security in their corner of the west, the French in Quebec
and Three Rivers were in constant dread of the Iroquois. Day by day
the redskins grew bolder. At first, terrified by the French cannon
and muskets, they did not venture to approach too near the walls of
the French forts. But by degrees that fear wore away, and the
sentries, looking out from the bastions, would often see a dozen or
two Iroquois braves lurking about the fort in the hopes of catching
some straggler unawares and scalping him. One day indeed they were
rewarded. Two Frenchmen named Godefroy and François Margerie were
captured and dragged away to their lodges. The Iroquois chief,
summoning all his forces, prepared a plan. He resolved to offer
peace to the French at Three Rivers if they would give up their
Indian allies, the Algonquins, against whom and the Hurons the
Iroquois were engaged in a war of extermination. As Margerie spoke
the Indian tongue, he was told that his life for the present would be
spared, that he was to go under a flag of truce back to the fort at
Three Rivers and offer these terms to his countrymen. If he did not
return, his fellow-captive, Godefroy, would be tortured and slain.
The heroic Margerie did not shrink from his task. He journeyed back
to the fort and urged the Commandant to reject so dishonourable a
proposal. Then, fully counting the cost of his action, he returned
to the {61} Iroquois and to his companion Godefroy. Luckily for him,
in the meantime, the Governor arrived from Quebec with soldiers to
reinforce the garrison at Three Rivers. The Iroquois perceived that
it would be hopeless now to storm the fort, and wisely decided to
accept ransom for their prisoners. So the brave Margerie and his
friend, who had boldly faced death, were now free.
{62}